


Promise

by Nyssa



Category: Monty Python RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-17
Updated: 2010-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyssa/pseuds/Nyssa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neil realises an ambition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a sequel to "Thirty."

Neil's far from ready to wake up when the shaking begins. Gradually, through thick layers of unconsciousness, he feels it -- a hand on his arm. He groans and tries to roll away from it, but it persists. "Go 'way," he mumbles, and in a flash the hand is clapped over his mouth and a voice is breathing in his ear, "Quiet, don't wake them."

He's wide awake in an instant, blinking rapidly. Eric's voice. Eric's hand. He's in bed with Eric. He catches his breath as he feels warm, bare skin pressed to his. He's in bed with Eric _naked_. His mind spins for a moment, helpless with wonder at this marvel, before he remembers.

"Get up," Eric whispers. As he speaks, he shoves gently at Neil with one hand. "Come on, up, up."

These are not the words Neil longs to hear. He sighs heavily and half-rolls, half-falls out of bed. He struggles to his feet, trying clumsily to untangle the bedclothes from his legs. His head feels thick and heavy, and he can't remember where he left his glasses. Or his clothes. Then again, he thinks, as he watches Eric slip stark naked from the bed, who needs clothes?

Eric raises a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture and points with the other hand to the bed. Neil squints through the dimness at the sight of Michael and Terry lying entwined in the sheets, Michael with an arm thrown across Terry's middle, Terry's lips almost touching Mike's hair. They're both asleep, and look more than content to remain that way. Neil can't help smiling. They're -- well, cute.

He turns back to Eric and sees him on his hands and knees, crawling on the floor, groping about for his clothes. Neil sinks down himself, feeling about through the shoes and shirts and empty wine bottles, but not looking too hard, not when he can look at Eric's bare bum instead. A thin ray of moonlight pushes through the curtains and hits it perfectly, giving it the peculiar appearance of a round white apple bobbing through the darkness. Neil stares at it in fascination.

"Fuck!" Eric says suddenly, in a savage whisper.

Neil blinks. "What -- "

"Shh!" Eric's rubbing one hand on the carpet. "Put my hand down in a bloody ashtray." He sighs and gets to his feet. "Never mind, we'll get the clothes later. Come on."

Neil starts to follow him, then stops abruptly. He can just make out the two acoustic guitars leaning against the far wall. He picks his way toward them, takes one in each hand and catches up with Eric at the door. Eric's just opened it a crack, and is peering out into the corridor.

"No one about," he reports in a whisper.

"Not even Graham?" Neil whispers back. It may be early, but he's known Graham to be roaming about, drunk and on the prowl, at any hour.

Eric makes a dismissive gesture. "He's shacked up somewhere. Come on." He swings the door open and steps casually out into the brightly lit corridor.

Neil follows, with considerably more self-consciousness. He holds one of the guitars strategically in front of himself and proffers the other to Eric. Eric takes it, but doesn't bother to hide behind it. He strides along nonchalantly, as though no one would blink at the sight of two bare-arsed naked men carrying guitars through a posh English hotel at five in the morning.

Eric's room is at the far end of the corridor. Neil knows that's where they're going, even though Eric hasn't said so, and he doesn't hesitate as they pass the door of his own room. He's not so certain what they'll do when they get there, or why they had to leave Michael's room in the first place. Unless, of course, Eric's finally decided to make good on his promises, stop his bloody teasing, and get down to it. That thought makes Neil swallow nervously. But he doesn't ask Eric about it. Eric's not the type who can be pressured.

When they get to the room, Eric pushes the door open and walks in. Neil follows, wondering what Eric has against locked doors, but glad of it since the key is undoubtedly in Eric's jeans pocket somewhere on the floor of Michael's room.

Neil secures the door behind them, and Eric sets his guitar down and stretches out with a sigh on the bed. "Well," he says, in a satisfied tone. "A good night's work, I reckon."

Neil puts his own guitar down, and wavers uncertainly. Should he lie down beside Eric, or not? Should he stand back and simply feast his eyes on Eric's naked body?

He clears his throat. "Erm, you have any more...?"

Eric grins and points to his case. "At the bottom."

Neil rummages through socks and underpants until he finds the little plastic bag. He carries it to the table in the corner and busies himself with rolling papers. Doing something with his hands always helps him fight off nervousness.

"Don't you think so?" Eric asks.

Neil glances up briefly. "What?"

"That it was a good job. I mean, they looked happy, didn't they? When we left?"

Neil shrugs, and licks the newly made spliff carefully from end to end. "They were asleep. Perhaps they were dreaming lovely dreams." At least Michael should be happy, he thinks with a pang of jealousy. If he isn't, after what he did with Eric, he's a bloody fool.

"No, I think we cracked it." Eric's smiling up at the ceiling. "I think it worked."

Neil fires the joint with Eric's gold lighter and takes a grateful draw. The smoke swirls gracefully into his lungs, where he holds it as long as he can before slowly releasing it. His body goes light almost instantly, and he shakes his head in awe. Whatever Eric paid for this shit, it wasn't enough. This is pure gold.

Eric's holding out a hand expectantly. Neil smiles and passes him the spliff, then lies down beside him and closes his eyes. "Your good deed for the day, then."

"Mike deserves it," Eric says, and his tone surprises Neil with its seriousness. "He's better off. Jonesy's fucking mad about him, always has been. They had a thing once, did you know that? Don't know exactly when, or why it finished -- neither of them'll talk about it -- but it must have been pretty intense." He draws deeply on the joint. "Christ, that's good. Mike's such a sweetheart. He should be with somebody who loves him."

Neil doesn't ask why Eric thinks he knows what's best for Michael, or what gives him the right to arrange Michael's love life for him, or why he just assumes Mike's going to go happily back to Terry without a backward glance. Neil's mother told him never to look gift horses in the mouth.

He sighs and takes the joint from Eric. "Everyone should be with somebody who loves them. Even you."

Eric turns his head and gives him a steady look. "I am," he says. "You love me, don't you?"

Neil pretends to ponder the question, letting smoke trickle slowly from his nostrils. "No," he says at last. "But you have the best dope in the world."

Eric blinks, and then his face creases with mirth. In a moment he's shouting with laughter, and Neil can't help but join in. They laugh till they choke, and Eric barely rescues the joint from sliding unnoticed into the bedclothes.

"Liar," Eric gasps at last, between giggles. "You're a bloody lying sod, Neil. I know you love me."

"I don't." Neil tries manfully to force a sober expression onto his face. "I just -- _like_ you."

"Mmm," Eric says. "But there must be some things about me you _don't_ like."

"There are," Neil says without hesitation. "You're a fucking tease. You make promises you don't keep."

Eric smiles. "That's not true," he says. "I just haven't kept them _yet_."

Neil looks at him, at the blue eyes so close to his own. "You said if I helped you -- "

Eric takes another hit off the joint before balancing it carefully on the rim of the ashtray on the nightstand. "But I didn't say when, did I?"

Neil turns away on his side, pressing his lips together. "Fuck you, Idle," he mutters.

He hears a soft, amused sound behind him. "Come on, I'm just having a laugh." There's a pause, and then with a jolt of his heart, he feels Eric's hand stroking his arse.

"Lovely," Eric says in a whisper that Neil feels on the back of his neck. "You've a lovely arse, Neil. Have I told you that before?"

Neil swallows before he can speak. "Yeah, you have. Never bothered to do anything about it, though, did you?"

"What d'you want me to do about it?" Eric murmurs, and Neil feels warm lips brush against his shoulder. He sighs at the gentle touch, and closes his eyes.

"What did you do about Mike's?" he asks.

Eric kisses his neck. "Mike wasn't frightened," he says softly. His fingers slide slowly down the cleft between Neil's cheeks. "He wasn't a shy little innocent."

Neil rolls over to face him. "I'm not frightened, I'm not shy, and I'm not innocent." He tries hard to feel a suitable amount of outrage at Eric's patronising, but it's not easy. He's so stoned it's hard to feel anything but glowing contentment.

Eric smiles, infuriatingly. "Yes, you are. You want something you never expected to want, and it scares the shit out of you. That sort needs to be coddled along, led up to it gradually. If I'd just pushed you up against a wall and gone at it, you'd have had a fucking heart attack."

Neil's lips part, unconsciously, at the picture Eric's words paint in his mind. He can almost feel the wall beneath his hands, feel Eric's rough grip on his hips, hear his own harsh groans as Eric...

Eric's watching him contemplatively. "Pretty mouth," he murmurs, and kisses it gently. Neil's eyes flutter closed. He kisses back, and puts a hand on the back of Eric's head to hold him in place.

When Eric pulls back, Neil tries to follow him, leaning forward, reaching for another kiss. But Eric puts a finger across Neil's lips to stop him. Neil does stop, and watches Eric's eyes while the finger traces the outline of his lips.

"Very pretty," Eric whispers.

Neil opens his mouth and draws Eric's finger in. He runs his tongue over it, sucking, tasting. Eric says nothing, watching him patiently until Neil tires of it and lets the finger slide away.

"Why don't you want me?" Neil asks softly. He hadn't intended to say such a thing. He's aware of how pathetic it sounds. But he really wants to know.

For once, Eric doesn't give him a condescending smile. Silently, he pushes a tickly strand of hair away from Neil's eyes.

Neil looks closely at him. "It's 'cos I love you. That's it, innit?"

When Eric still says nothing, Neil forges on. "You think if we were together I'd be all over you, I'd stick to you like glue, I'd never leave you alone, you'd never get rid of me." Another realisation strikes him, and his mouth opens in sudden surprise. "That's why you wanted Mike to go back to Terry, wasn't it? You thought perhaps you were beginning to mean too much to him, that he was starting to care too much. You don't want that. You don't want to be clung to. You don't -- "

"Neil," Eric says very softly, "if I fuck you, will you shut up?"

Neil's mouth closes abruptly. He blinks and says, "Yes."

"Once," Eric says, and holds up a finger. "Just once."

Neil swallows, and then nods. "Yeah. All right." He'd thought.... But he has to admit Eric never said it'd be a regular thing.

Eric smiles. "Still frightened?"

"No," Neil says automatically. He knows Eric knows he's lying.

Eric kisses his cheek lightly. "Don't be," he says. "You've seen. It's nothing, really. Like fallin' off a log."

Neil forces a laugh. His stomach's beginning to clench with nervousness.

He lies back and stares at the ceiling while Eric rises and searches through his bag. Then he feels the bed dip and turns his head to see Eric kneeling beside him. He's got a little tube of something in his hand. Neil gazes at it, mesmerised.

"Fancy doing it yourself?"

Neil starts, and looks up at Eric's face. "Do what?"

Eric appears to be fighting back hilarity, for which Neil is grateful. His face is flaming, he feels ridiculous, but at least Eric's making an attempt not to laugh at him.

"You can put it on me, if you like." Eric points helpfully from the tube to his cock, which, Neil notices with a slight shock, is half-hard and rising gradually toward him.

Neil takes the tube from Eric and clears his throat nervously. "Uh, shouldn't you put it in me?" He feels his face redden even more. "I mean -- "

"You can do it either way. Doesn't matter."

"Oh." Neil squeezes the tube hurriedly, dispensing a quantity of clear, sticky gel into his palm.

"Jesus," Eric laughs. "Enough for three goes, that is. No," he says, grabbing Neil's hand before he can withdraw it, "no, it's okay. Carry on."

And Neil touches him, with his gel-slicked hand. He'd been quietly amazed, earlier, at how much he'd enjoyed touching Michael's cock, once he'd nerved himself to do it. He'd done that for Eric, because Eric wanted him to, because it was part of the deal, but it had turned out to be quite good fun as well. He'd liked feeling it harden in his hand, feeling the pulse pounding, hearing Mike's heavy breathing, knowing that _he_ was causing that. It was a power trip.

This is like that, only better. Michael is a good mate, but that's all. This is _Eric_. Eric, who's about to fuck him.

He thinks about that as he spreads the lube carefully over Eric's prick, as he feels it stiffen rapidly beneath his coaxing fingers. Until a few hours ago, he'd never touched anyone's penis but his own, not even as a boy. Until he met Eric he'd never wanted to. What is it about Eric? Neil's never understood that. He only knows he'd cut off his right ball if Eric asked him to. He knows Eric knows it too, and sometimes -- often -- that makes Neil cringe. But what can he do? He's a romantic.

"Fuck," Eric whispers, and Neil looks up at his face. His eyes are closed, and as Neil watches, he swallows. "Fuck, that's lovely. Keep going. I'll -- I'll tell you when to stop."

Neil feels his mouth go dry. He knows Eric must be slick enough now. Which means he wants Neil to keep going because he likes it. He likes Neil's hand on his cock. He likes Neil tossing him off. A picture flashes suddenly into Neil's mind -- Eric tied down, helpless, his hands restrained, sporting a raging hard-on, begging Neil to...

Oh, Jesus. Perhaps -- perhaps if he's good enough at this, Eric will forget he said it would be only once.

"That's enough," Eric gasps.

Neil awkwardly withdraws his hand, wondering if he should wipe it off on something.

"Turn round," Eric says in a whisper. "On your knees, arse up -- that's it. Now, _relax_."

Neil finds it amazingly easy to do just that. He closes his eyes and concentrates on Eric's hands moving soothingly over his lower back. It feels good, and the touch of Eric's lips that follows feels even better. He sighs as his nervousness melts away in the glow of cannabis and Eric's heat. When Eric presses closer to him -- crowding between Neil's legs, sliding warm arms round his chest -- he pushes back eagerly, delighting in the closeness. There's no reason to be frightened now. Eric knows what he's doing.

He feels a finger pressing carefully between his cheeks, and he shudders. He likes being touched there. He's been with a few girls who've touched him that way, who paid attention to his arse as well as his cock, and he'd embarrassed himself with his moaning. But they'd been too gentle about it, and he'd been too shy to ask for more. He's determined not to be shy now.

"Like that?" Eric murmurs from behind, and Neil feels the finger press harder, harder, till it's inside him, rotating slowly, exquisitely.

"Yes," he pants, and pushes back again. "Don't stop."

Eric laughs softly. "I won't, no fear. Just have to go a bit slowly at first." His other hand slides down Neil's front and grasps his cock with a sudden firmness that draws a gasp of appreciation from its owner. "Ah, nice and hard, I see."

He strokes it experimentally, and Neil groans. "Jesus, Eric!"

"All right, all right. You don't have to beg." Even through his aching arousal, Neil can hear the barely suppressed glee in Eric's voice. Bastard. Show-off.

The finger inside him retreats, the hand on his cock withdraws, but before Neil can mourn their loss, Eric has gripped him hard by the hips and sunk into him to the hilt. He almost screams, not with pain but with shock, with the sheer strangeness of it. He gulps, and his fingers dig hard into the mattress.

"All right?" Eric says again, in a harsh whisper, and this time it's a question.

Neil can't speak, but he nods violently. He doesn't know if he's all right or not, but he'll be damned if he'll admit it.

Somewhat to his surprise, Eric kisses him gently on the shoulder and strokes his sides with hands that tremble. "Just relax. Don't clench down so." His voice is raw, strained. "Jesus, you're so tight I can't..."

Neil breathes in deliberately, and then deeply out. He feels Eric breathe, too, and shift ever so slightly inside him.

"Better," Eric sighs. "Oh, that's better. Isn't it?"

Neil nods again. "I -- " he begins, and runs his tongue over his dry lips. "I like the way you feel," he says softly.

There's a breathless laugh from behind. "Glad we're in agreement. 'Cos you feel like velvet, mate. Soft, hot velvet."

Neil whimpers at this, because he can't help it, and twists his hips invitingly.

"Ah," Eric gasps. "Ready then, are we?"

"Yeah," Neil whispers. "God, yeah."

"Hold on, then." Eric pulls back slightly before shoving forward. He groans. "Just like velvet."

Neil closes his eyes and waits, and there's another thrust, and another and another, and it doesn't feel explosive, it doesn't feel orgasmic, it doesn't feel electrically good the way a blowjob does, for instance. It feels -- comforting, somehow. It's a deep, soul-satisfying sort of pleasure with a perfect rightness about it, the sort of rightness he's accustomed to feeling only with a guitar in his hands, the feeling he used to get on stage with the Bonzos when he knew there was no other place he belonged, nothing else he was meant to do, nothing else in the world to want or to wish for. He realises he's making a soft, happy, humming sound under his breath.

And then there's a sudden flash of _something_ , something inside that makes him jump, that transforms his humming into a strangled yelp.

He hears Eric gasp out a laugh. "Got you, did I?"

Neil can't reply because it happens again, that buzz, that abrupt eye-widening frisson of heat, and his arms fold under him, and he'd fall flat on his face if not for Eric's support.

"Oh, yes," Eric says in a whisper, and sighs. "Was beginning to think you didn't have one, mate. Now we'll have a bit of fun."

He's right, Neil decides faintly, as Eric pounds him into a spiraling vortex of ecstasy, only it's more than a bit.

 

*****

 

Afterward he's lying exhausted, eyes closed, sweat-bathed, listening with a lazy smile to Eric's gradually slowing breathing, enjoying the weight of Eric's arm resting with proprietary nonchalance across his middle, when he suddenly realises he hasn't even come. He opens his eyes, frowning, and glances down. There's his cock, still hard, pointing up at him with a pathetic, accusing eye. He stares back at it, amazed.

He hears Eric yawn behind him, followed by a drowsy murmur. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Neil feels oddly foolish. "I just, er..."

Eric moves the arm he's holding Neil with, sliding his hand down to Neil's crotch. "Oh," he says, but he doesn't sound surprised. "Forgot something, did we?" He laughs.

Neil blinks. "I didn't even notice."

Eric shrugs. "Happens that way a lot. The other side's having such a lovely time, it's easy to overlook it." He strokes Neil's erection fondly. "Want me to -- "

"No, don't need it," Neil answers, to his own surprise. "I'm fine." He remembers Michael's words from earlier, and giggles. "I'm _better_ than fine."

Eric rolls comfortably onto his back. "Whatever you like. Don't say I didn't offer."

Neil turns and gazes at him. Next time, he thinks. You can do it for me next time. But he doesn't dare say it aloud. He's not going to say or do anything that could be interpreted as _clingy_ , not now that he knows what he's been missing. If no strings is what Eric wants, that's exactly what Neil's going to give him. There'll be a next time. He clenches his jaw in silent determination. There _will_.

Eric glances at him, and then extends an arm in invitation. Neil smiles and curls up against him, laying his head on Eric's shoulder.

"I think," Eric says with eyes closed, "I could sleep round the clock."

Neil yawns contentedly. "I'm sure you could. A good night's work, a promise kept -- a right prince of a bloke you are, Idle. You should sleep like a fucking log."

Eric smiles without opening his eyes. "I always do," he says.


End file.
